Inside Venice. That's all there is. The whole city is an interior, being inside closed doors makes you feel trapped into the familiarity of today. You need to be outside of today and inside the continuous act that the city asks you to perform. This city is beyond time and reality; beyond truth and compromise. It is a mind game.
My mind was moaning with please, my subconscious was storing senses for a decade's worth of dreams, and I fell in love with everything. I had no reason to look up. I never looked up because the sky had lost its grandeur. It was nothing but a faded old rug.
The smells of fresh vegetables under my window in the morning. The sound of the river boats, the church bells followed by wing flapping and then silence. The smell of fresh ice cream, hot bread and coffee locked in the small interior of the piazza. It flies around, sneaks inside your room, it will fill you, neither of you can escape the merge because there's nowhere to run to. The great outdoors is a lost case.
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